


Till The End of Time

by elysichor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dancing, First Dance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysichor/pseuds/elysichor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t the first time Bucky had insisted they go dancing—but it was the first time Steve didn’t have a plausible excuse to bail.  Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till The End of Time

**Author's Note:**

> It's recommended you listen to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFXA_-2cIYU before reading.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, the air crisp and the birds singing in the clear, blue sky. It was normally the sort of day that would have Steve out in the yard, sketching while he tried to soak up some sunlight (more often than not he got sunburnt). However, he was in no mood to draw anything at the moment, and was lying supine on the couch, staring at the ceiling as he half-listened to the radio. A fat fly buzzed lazily a few feet above him, but he didn’t bother swatting it. Anxiety was gnawing away at his stomach, preoccupying his mind no matter what he tried to do.

Bucky had found a couple of girls (Charlene and Doris; cousins visiting their aunt, who happened to live in Bucky and Steve’s apartment building) and, when Charlene agreed (very enthusiastically) to go dancing with Bucky, of course Bucky had to break out his well-rehearsed Steve-selling mantra for Doris. Steve was quiet, thoughtful, sensitive, polite, artistic—but despite all the positive things Bucky said about his mental and emotional capabilities, he never touched on the physical ones, and that was what usually made Steve so nervous. Normally one glance was all it took; the girl would blink, the smile still on her face but no longer in her eyes, and then she’d say in a sort of I-hope-I’m-wrong voice, “Are you Steve?”

All Steve could do was grin tightly and nod (and maybe, very subtly, shift his weight to his toes and gain a couple of inches). The rest was always the same, too; the girl would pretend to be interested in Steve for the first hour or so, but then when Bucky got excited about a new Benny Goodman song and just had to move to it, well, Steve would be left alone at the corner table. Normally it wasn’t too bad…but tonight was different.

Tonight was dancing.

It wasn’t the first time Bucky had insisted they go dancing—but it was the first time Steve didn’t have a plausible excuse to bail. The first time he’d gotten lucky and had an asthma attack; ever-protective Bucky had insisted he stay home and rest, and Steve wasn’t one to argue. The second time Steve told Bucky that he’d been feeling lightheaded recently, and again, Bucky insisted he stay home. Any time Bucky managed to find a girl who was willing to go dancing with Steve (more to please Bucky than any other reason), all he had to do was clutch his side and gasp and Bucky would all but tuck him into bed.

To say Steve felt guilty was putting it very, very mildly.

Who was he to deceive his best friend like that? Bucky knew he was lonely, and he was only trying to help. It wasn’t fair of Steve to consistently lie to him…and yet, that was exactly what Steve had thought of doing the moment the dreaded word left Bucky’s lips.

That is, until Bucky kept talking. He didn’t just say the standard “X and X and I are goin’ dancing, you should come too; X seems eager to meet you.” He kept going. “The Red Room is havin’ a party for fellas about to ship out, and…I know you haven’t been able to come dancin’ lately because of your health, but…if you’re feelin’ up to it, it would mean a whole lot if you came. A kind of farewell party, I guess.”

And then he smiled a crooked smile at him, and the lie died in Steve’s mouth.

So here he was, limp on the couch, with the radio droning on about sugar shortages and rubber recycling and war bonds, with only the fly to pay attention. Steve glanced at the clock again; Bucky would be home any minute. Steve wasn’t sure exactly what he’d said in response to that crooked smile, but it had been somewhere in the ballpark of an affirmative, and his personal code of honor prevented him from breaking his promise (he quietly dismissed the many deceits leading up to that promise). Come hell or high water, he was going dancing.

The front door opened.

Bucky was whistling energetically, clearly excited. He removed his military cap and tossed it at Steve, who caught it clumsily. Bustling about their apartment, undressing and dressing and tidying up irrelevant, isolated clutter in passing, Bucky was in constant motion. He glanced at Steve’s expression, miserable even though he was trying to appear pleasant, and his whistling died down. “What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“No,” Steve sighed, fidgeting with the hat. “Just…just nervous, I guess.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Bucky assured him. He sat down at the end of the couch, moving Steve’s feet into his lap. “It’s not like the other times, I promise. This is a party. There’ll be lots of people, not just Charlene and Doris.”

Steve swallowed and his heart sped up. That was exactly what he _didn’t_ want to hear.

“You won’t be left out,” Bucky said firmly. “I won’t let it. I know I let it all the other times, and I’m real sorry about that…but tonight’s gonna be different. Tonight’s gonna be one to remember.”

Steve wanted to answer, but a sudden lump in his throat prevented him from speaking. When he wasn’t given an answer Bucky looked at him and his brow furrowed. “Hey, are you okay?”

Steve blinked rapidly and turned his head to the side. “No. I’m me.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Bucky asked gruffly, and Steve had to take a deep breath before he could speak. “I’m never gonna be you, Buck. I’m never gonna be noticeable, or the guy gals are tripping over themselves to get to. I’m never gonna…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I’ll just embarrass myself if I go tonight; you know I will. I always do, without even trying. I’m so lost, in everything I do.”

Bucky was very still and silent for a moment, the happy energy gone from him. “You don’t want to go?” He sounded disappointed and pitiful, like a child from whom something had been taken.

“No, Buck,” Steve murmured quietly, refusing to look at him. “I don’t.”

Silence.

“I don’t get it,” Bucky finally said. “All the other times we’ve gone out you didn’t mind…”

“The other times weren’t dancing,” Steve spoke in a strained voice, his face going slightly pink.

“What’s wrong with dancing?”

“Nothing. I just—”

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

“God, no, Bucky. I’m embarrassed by _me_.”

Bucky’s brow was furrowed and he was looking at Steve as if this was the most preposterous thing he’d ever heard anyone say. “ _Why_?”

Steve rubbed both hands over his face before saying exasperatedly, “I—I don’t know how to dance, Buck. At all.”

Again Bucky was quiet, but this time he was shaking. Steve looked to him and was surprised (and maybe a little offended) to see a wide, crooked smile on his face. Bucky was laughing at him!

“Well, I _don’t_ ,” Steve said defensively, shoving Bucky’s arm. “It’s not my fault no one ever wanted to teach me.”

“No, it’s not that,” Bucky laughed. “It’s just—I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me, when really it’s just you can’t _dance_ …” he dissolved into more laughter, but Steve refused to join in. He crossed his arms across his chest and frowned at Bucky until he had calmed down, leaned forward pensively, and said, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I never saw the point,” Steve said stubbornly. “I mean, be logical. What girl on this planet is gonna willingly dance with me unless you bribe her?”

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” Bucky snapped. “Steve, if you had just told me, I never would have asked you to come along all those times.”

“No,” Steve said desperately. “The thing is…I mean, I sort of do want to come. It’s just that I’m terrified of making a fool out of myself in front of everyone. If I knew how to dance, I might not be so scared, but there’s no one to teach me…not that I’d be any less scared of dancing with a teacher. I’m doomed to have two left feet forever.”

Bucky turned and grinned widely at Steve, his eyes bright. “You never came dancing with us.”

“So?”

“So,” Bucky said, standing, “you’ve never seen what I’m capable of.”

Steve looked at him dubiously. “You’re gonna teach me to dance?”

Bucky shrugged. “You got a better idea?”

He didn’t. He stayed on the couch for a few moments more, then stood with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll try, but there’s no way I’m gonna learn by tonight.”

“You’ll be fine,” Bucky assured him. “Okay, so—wait, help me move the coffee table. On second thought, I’ll move it, you just stand there. Oh, and grab those socks off the ground. Don’t wanna slip on ‘em.” He was buzzing again, his excitement shining in his face in a way that Steve couldn’t help but smile at.

After he moved the coffee table (and scooted the couch back for good measure), Bucky bounded over to his record player and put one on. He hurried back to Steve as the intro started playing, a sort of grandiose brass sound.

 _‘Till the end of time,’_ the voice sang out dreamily, _‘Long as stars are in the blue…’_

“No Benny Goodman?” Steve wondered aloud, and Bucky shook his head. “Nah. I’m gonna teach you the slow stuff, and Perry Como’s the greatest.”

 _The slow stuff_. Steve was suddenly having trouble keeping his hands and heart still. Bucky moved in closer and reached around Steve, resting his left hand against the small of his back; the feel of it was so distinct it burned. With his right hand he took Steve’s, holding it slightly away from them. Steve had no idea what to do with his other hand; he put it first on Bucky’s forearm, then his shoulder, then back to his arm. Bucky gave a small laugh and said, “Shoulder’s fine, Steve.”

_‘Long as there’s a spring, a bird to sing,’_

“The trick to dancin’ slow is you just gotta move in a circle back and forth,” Bucky explained, and he started stepping. He stepped back with his left, Steve stepped forward with his right foot. Then Steve stepped back, and Bucky moved forward with him. There was hardly any space between them, and Steve hoped Bucky couldn’t hear or feel his racing pulse.

_‘I’ll go on loving you…’_

Bucky bowed his head slightly, his breath hitting Steve’s collarbone. He was guiding them back and forth, back and forth, and with each step Steve felt that if Bucky wasn’t there, he would surely fall.

 _‘Till the end of time,’_ Perry Como crooned as they danced, _‘Long as roses bloom in May…’_

“Buck,” Steve managed in a hoarse whisper, “I…”

“You wanna lead?” Bucky asked, misunderstanding. “If you’re sure you got the hang of it, go ahead.” He adjusted his left hand, setting it gently on Steve’s shoulder; when Steve was unable to move his hand to Bucky’s waist, Bucky did it for him, then patiently waited for him to lead.

_‘My love for you will grow deeper,’_

Steve stepped forward. Bucky stepped back.

_‘With every passing day…’_

He didn’t let himself look at Bucky. He didn’t let himself move his hands in the slightest. His face was burning, his breathing was shaky, and he wouldn’t have traded any of it for the world.

“You still feel lost?” Bucky murmured, his mouth inches from Steve’s ear. Steve had to bite down on his tongue to keep from spewing some sappy crap about feeling found.

They never got to learning the fast, catchy dances. They danced through the whole Perry Como record, and when it lapsed into silence Bucky took Steve’s hands, pressed his forehead to his, and whispered, “Good job.”

When it was time to go pick the girls up, they walked in silence, close together, in step, like they were still dancing. Steve didn’t know if they would ever dance together again, or if this was one of Bucky’s spur-of-the-moment, one-time-only occurrences that meant nothing.

He didn’t know what he would even say if Bucky asked him to dance again.

The evening went mostly as predicted, with Doris’s obvious disappointment in Steve’s physique, both girls hanging off of Bucky at the Red Room, and Steve’s sitting lonely at a corner table. But towards the end of the party, a familiar musical swell filled the room, and his head jerked up.

_‘Till the end of time…’_

Bucky was grinning widely at him from the other side of the room.

_‘Long as stars are in the blue…’_

Steve grinned back.

 

’Till the end of time, ’till the end of the line…whatever the phrasing, whatever the meaning, this was the testament they had made to each other. It was a monument of their love—whether platonic or otherwise Steve wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think he would ever know Bucky’s true feelings—and seventy years later, the night after he had first come face-to-face with Bucky after he lost him, first realized that he wasn’t alone in the world, he played Bucky’s old Perry Como record nonstop. As he listened, unable to sleep, he thought of that night. Bucky’s self-proclaimed ‘one to remember’. It was, but not for the reasons Bucky had intended.

If Bucky ever remembered him, it would be a miracle. If he didn’t, Steve would have to start over. From the beginning. The day they met. The days they fought. The day they danced…

It could all be lost.

But Steve Rogers wasn’t lost.

Not anymore.

 

_So take my heart in sweet surrender_

_And tenderly say that I’m_

_The one you love and live for_

_Till the end of time_


End file.
